Honk Honk

http://www.nosetonose.info/articles/jbarticle.htm

A wonderful article about clowning.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;



Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.



I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

                                               Robert Frost

This poem has always stood for me as a kind of mortar to the bricks that built the way that I thought about my future.  I am, and always have been, a bit a risk-lover. This poem suggests, on the surface, that were I to take a less common route in life that I would end up happier, wiser, and better. And indeed, this could be true. How should I know? 

There is another interpretation of this poem. And quite disappointingly to me, this interpretation is favored by critics to be the intention of Frost. Reportedly, the poem is instead about regret and personal myth-making, rationalizing our decisions.  In this interpretation, the final two lines:

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

are ironic – the choice made little or no difference at all, the
speaker's protestations to the contrary. The narrator admits in the
second and third stanzas that both paths may be equally worn and
equally leaf-covered, and it is only in his future recollection that he
will call one road "less traveled by."

Is this possibly the real case in life? Supposing that no matter what path we take in life, we'll end up in the same place or at least the same state of mind? That conclusion relies heavily on predetermined fate, and I don't know if I believe in fate... or do I? I always say, everything happens for a reason, and when something bad happens to me, I always console myself with karma. Will life end up the same no matter what? If so, why the hell would I ever take the rocky path even if the view on the way is a spectacular bluff? I may as well save myself the twisted ankle and sore muscles, and take the well-trodden path. After all, the meadows and sparkling creeks are very pleasant.

But I'm still missing the mark. Really what Frost is doing is just making fun of a bunch of old farts who like to talk about how they made glorious decisions that made them who they are. Well, what if I actually make a glorious decision??  I mean, making any decision is hard for me. If you've ever read that first play I wrote, Quirks, that main character, Indecisive Anne--- that's me. I seriously stood in Whole Foods last night agonizing over a fucking cupcake or a piece of pie.

What I mean to say is... I'm at a fork. I feel like I'm always at a goddamn fork, and I know I do it to myself! But I've already been walking for a while, and I'm tired. Honestly I feel a bit like taking the easy path just now. All that shade and company. It would be so nice to share the burden of all of my baggage with fellow travelers.

But something inside of me is burning. It's this desire to make the hard choices, so that in the end, I will have all the difference. And then my life will have been great. And I will sigh. But not with regret! With satisfaction. I hope. I really really hope. 

Besides, I'll always have my number one partner. And that bluff is supposed to be spectacular...



I hope I get in.

Life Update: Where I am Now

First of all, Happy Halloween. Today, I am depressed.

Life in Chicago has been chugging along pretty steadily upward. It was really tough for a while because Phil and I were struggling to pay the bills and didn't have very many friends. I auditioned and auditioned with no success, sometime putting myself into compromising situations. When I got my full-time job at the Nature Museum things started picking up. I've made great friends now, I love(d) my job, I am gaining footing so that I have more flexibility to pursue my passion, and I have started taking some really great classes and forging connections with new theatre people that I really respect. I have had to really assess my desire to be an artist this year because I have finally had to face the reality of "the biz."  However many times I have descended to giving up my dreams, I step back up with a new perspective. I have become really selective about who and what I audition for, and though that doesn't mean I am more successful, it does mean that I am no longer being treated like an fool that doesn't deserve to be respected. Most of the time...

My job laid off 30% of its staff this month. Some really good friends of mine were abruptly sent packing, and it has been a hard road with out them. My baby, my brand-new all-mine early childhood program that I (with help from my colleagues) birthed and raised to a very successful level was cancelled yesterday. Now, my job is kinda empty. The program was really hard at times, and part of me is relieved. But I know that we are just getting jerked around by this crazy, self-absorbed lady with a vision and a passion for advancing the careers of her friends. I had an interview with the Shedd Aquarium this morning. Very informal. I don't know if it's going to go anywhere. I am not even sure I want the position, but I need to pay the bills. My job isn't very stable right now.

Perhaps this is for the best though. I could have easily seen myself staying at the Nature Museum for years. Now, with the help of some recent inspirational classes, I feel the push to pursue what I really want. And I finally think I know what the next step is to achieve that. 

I have decided, for sure, that I want to go the grad school for an MFA in Acting. I want to do this so that I can either start my own company after graduation that creates the kind of theatre that I think is the ultimate OR so that I can be an acting professor for a school. I know that's what I want. I mean, I have even been thinking about what my lesson plans would be. I am an incredible teacher, and I want the support and freedom to create. And I want to share with people the theraputic, uplifting, amazing feeling that is acting with truth. But I also really want to work with an ensemble of people that I respect to make art that is relevant and truthful and magical. 

So, I need to go back to school. Which i didn't even realize for sure that I would ever do until like, now. Because now I am sure. For sure.

So, now I'm totally FREAKED out because it is fucking hard to get into grad school. And my confidence is way low because I never get jobs here.  But I know that I stand out in my classes, so I know it's possible. But I am scaaaaaaared. I really, really, really wanna get my degree in physical theatre. It's something I am really passionate about. I want to go to Dell'Arte in Blue Lake, CA the most. It's a really new program, and it's in some crazy rural town, but it's curriculum is absolutely dreamy. Obviously, I want to go to a great school though, so I'm going to pursue the best of the best. (Damn I'm scared)

That clown class + the fact that my job is collapsing has really pushed me to do this. I have just really learned lately that life is for living to the fullest, and that means doing what you would kill to do. 

As a side note, I was tired of compromising my appearance for acting when I never get work anyway, so I got a tattoo... on my arm.  Now, I'm freaking out because it was really impulsive and now its there forever. I mean, I love it, but holy shit! I am actress! Whatever, it's who I am and I want to live life truly living it. Experiencing what I am passionate about.

So, that's what's up with me. Phil and I are doing great, and we're in this together thank god. Our anniversary is Monday. Three years! I love you guys who read this. You're my friends/family and you mean a lot to me.

My Nose is Stuffy! Yay!

My nose is a little stuffy.

Not because I have a cold-- because I got hit in the face really hard. With someone else's face.

So, I started my clown class. Literally everyone I have talked to has told me it is amazing. Well, everyone that has taken it.

I feel like I am already changed. I think it's going to change my life. And I said that before I even started, so its not just the after-class high or anything.  My life will be changed.

I want to live my life as the eternal student. With someone else in charge, and myself allowed to not know and know at the same time forever.

Being in charge of oneself is an uncomfortable thing. 

I am a little drunk right now.

If you are an actor, and you're wondering where to go in life (that is likely many of my friends), I recommend this class. 

I am going to fail, and for once, that is succeeding.

Process over Product. Process over Product. Process over Product. (My life motto-- I just have to work so hard to live by it)

Good Ol' Charlie

Number 1

Number 2

Early Summer Haikus

The fourth of July
cold wind seeps under the door
flourescents blind me

lunchtime on the dock
peanut butter and jelly
ducks waiting for crumbs

Independence Day
sitting with Phil in the grass
cool breeze through my hair

seagulls fly overhead
adapted to look for fish
now find lost french fries

chilly starlit-night
spent swaying on the el train
Phil's arm 'round my back

fingers stained purple;
mulberries are such a joy
when picked on lunch break

after party blues:
sexist men so cruelly tease
while boyfriends chuckle

a dull cloudy day
is so judgemental of my
pizza greasy hands

The Duckling

It has just become spring in Chicago in the past two weeks. Where I work there is a large park with a large pond called the North Pond.  Lots of animals live in and around the pond, especially birds. So when I heard that all of the ducks have little ducklings right now, I had to see them for myself. 

After work yesterday, I wove through the pond side dirt path with a cool breeze blowing my hair in face watching for a tiny duck or two. I finally spotted a mother duck with tons of tiny companions, but they were all the way across the pond. How I longed for a pair of the crappy kid's binoculars we have in the museum! I was watching their tiny figures dart across the water, while staying safely close to their mama, when I heard a rustle behind me. A small, strange bird stood there with a huge worm hanging out of its mouth. Now, I had been learning a lot of new birds lately, but this was a kind I had never seen before. Then I realized - duh, this was a duckling! But where was its mother?

I scanned the edge of the pond near me, but I didn't see a single brown duck. I turned to look at the duckling. It seemed unconcerned with me, or the the fact that its mother was nowhere in sight, but rather intensely concerned with the worm. It slowly, head jerk by head jerk managed to comsume bits of the worm. Before it could shove the whole invertibrate down, a male squirrel spotted its tasty fair and wanted a bite. As I watched, it crept closer, eyeing the treat. I felt protective of the little ducky, so I said to the squirrel, "Hey now, buster. Shove off!" He eyed me stoically before moving closer to the little duck. "No, sir!" I said more firmly, scooting close. The squirrel didn't budge, but the duck did. It moved into the shallow water to finish its snack. The squirrel persued it. Finally, I had to kick my foot at the squirrel to chase it off. It eyed me thoughtfully, hoping that maybe I, like many of the other human visitors here, had a bit of food to spare. When it realized that not only did I not have any food, but that I found its presence near my little duckling (when had it become mine?) offensive, it scittered off. 

My duckling had finally finished its worm, and just in time! A mother duckling with eleven little duckies was making here way to the duck. The tiny birds shot forward in the water when they spotted a bug or bit of plant. They were so fast and so small! In fact, too small. They didn't look at all like my little duck... They had a prettier pattern on their fuzzy feathers, and were only 2/3s its size. They were wood ducks, while my duckling was a mallard. I wondered if the mother wood duck would care about the difference and stupidly accept its presence as just another baby bird. As I finished the thought, the wood duck open her beak and lunged! My duckling didn't see it coming! She bit his butt, and he quickly swam south.

The squirrel, the wood duck-- I was beginning to feel more and more responsible for protecting this duck. After this much happening to it already, what else might happen to it before it reunites with its parents? I briefly considered catching it, and raising it or giving it to the animal techs at the museum. But no... perhaps I should just let nature work itself out. Why am I responsible for this duck? Natural selection says that if it is stupid enough to wander away from its protective mother, then its genes should be cut off from procreation. But already I have grown to involved to just walk away. At what point should one make the decision to step into someone else's problem and make it their own? I don't have an answer yet. Perhaps a good person doesn't have to ask themselves, they simply dive in, willing to shoulder whatever consequences there may be. But then Iraq comes to mind, and Bush was not "good" to step into that problem. But I digress...

I followed the duck as it swam toward the southern edge of the pond. At this point I was desperately hoping that the mother would show up and end my dilema, so I followed from just close enough to see the duckling. Two male ducks apathetically observed the duckling swim by. It wandered out of the pond again and up a hill. When it started to wander on the bike path, I felt the need to protect it again. I herded it into some bushes where if found yet another huge worm. Who knew there were so many worms by the pond!  As I stood awkwardly on the trail, I'm sure seeming to the people walking by like a total weirdo, the duck ate its worm. It took what seemed like five minutes. I was ready to go home, but the duckling was anchoring me there. If I left, I would be unable to think of anything else, thinking of all the horrible fates that must have befallen my duckling. I searched the water for a female mallard. No such luck. Finally, I noticed a mother and daughter following something in the water. A female mallard! And a male one, and even better, one lone duckling. I eagerly began herding the little duck down to the shore. It's cries of alarm were so quiet I wondered why it even bothered. Once I got it into the water, I realized that this duck too may attack my duckling if she thinks it isn't hers. But the family of ducks is already approaching, and my duck has spotted them too.

My duckling lazily begins swimming towards them, and the family of ducks continues towards us just as lazily. I'm on the edge, wishing fervently that this will work out. When they meet, the mother seems unconcerned. Her duckling doesn't even notice its new rival. I watch for a moment as my duckling swims next to her. Things seem fine. I am elated! I even turn my back and begin walking away. As I look back one more time, I see the male mallard watching my duckling. Will he act like the mother wood duck? The mother mallard opens her beak at him and swims between the duckling and him. Whether that was her duck or not, she seemed determined to accept and protect him, and for that I was incredibly grateful.

Maybe the duckling wandered out looking for worms again, maybe the daddy duck finally drove my duckling off, or maybe I actually reunited a mother and child. I don't know. But the experience was moving, and made me question my involvement in the events of the world. When do you help? And when do you stand by and let the fates take their course?

A thing like this can turn your day from bad to good...

Yesterday, I saw my first Atlas Moth! The cocoons had been at the museum since I started there, and we hadn’t heard a peep, but finally one emerged! Atlas moths are the largest of their kind with a wingspan of up to 12 inches! Not only did I get to see this huge beauty, but I. got. to. RELEASE it. It was pretty exciting. I taught a crowd of about 200 people about it, while holding it in the palm of my hand. It’s heavy--like a small mouse.

Two cool things I want you to know about this moth:
1. It doesn’t have a mouth. All of its energy must come from the food it ate as a caterpillar.
2. See antennae below:

Moths have hairy antennae. This moth’s antennae have chemoreceptors on them to pick up the scent of the females pheremones floating on the wind. They smell with those things! Neat.

OK, so I’m a dork. So what! I got goose bumps when I got to hold this huge thing and teach people about it.

Then it was Earth Hour yesterday (earthhour.org), so Phil and I played chess in candle light. 

What a delightfully dorky day!

Pride Parade in my Backyard

To all my friends and definitely my family:

Get ready. Plan your visit. Chicago’s wildest parade will be marching past my very porch.

Gay Pride Parade: June 29th 12PM.

 

Be there. I will.

Random Moment

When that question comes up
Your biggest regret?
Thoughts topple down, but never hit very hard
then theres
that
and that

boys. girls.
fickle fantasies that fizzle 
on a dock in the sizzle summer a little drunk under a droopy moon
only a budding baby girl
and a big ol’ boy
but just a baby boy
confessions of love and foolish denials
shallow water, shallow desires
loss of a fragile friendship
that i will never quite let go. 
why not?

bigger girl grabs greedily onto what she thinks she wants
drink a little more
block out the tough stuff
drink
drink
drink
bashully black out for the biggest moment
waited so long for that moment
lost it
maybe the moment wasn’t worth the man 
maybe the man was worth more than I was ready to admit

the big regrets arent decisions about my life
they are about the people i hurt
the men
the men i really did love
in my way
that i just can’t let go
that slip into my sorrowfulsecondthoughts

sorry, boys. 

Back on Track

I had three auditions today. And one on Saturday. It feels good to be back out there. I don't really expect anything out of any of them, but I feel like I did good at all of them.

On Saturday, I was extremely fortunate to get an audition slot for an equity house here called Remy Bumppo because I knew the casting director through Matt Chiorini (Thank you, Matt!). It is way out of my league, and I had to prepare two all new monologues the DAY BEFORE the auditions because I got the slot last minute. I did something from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Stoppard and from the Homecoming by Pinter. The artisitic director complimented me on the Pinter piece. Yay! He said it was a very challenging piece to perform and that I did it beautifully... part of me thinks that was his way of passively telling me it was out of my league. I really didn't know what I was doing...

Today, my first auditions was for the ARTsLeague or something. It was Romeo and Juliet and Midsummer.  They perform them every year for local highschool English classes. I really feel like I nailed that audition. The director was very responsive, but she didn't have me read any sides or call me back. She said I would know right away practically, but that she would definitely keep me on file for next year. I am afraid that my schedule conflicts that I vaguely indicated were the reason for the brush off. Next time, I will not admit any conflicts.

The second audition was for this crazy little theatre called the Trapdoor Theatre (probably because the entrance is rather hidden and creepy). They perform a bunch of intellectual theatre. Chekov and weird plays about Kafka and stuff. I performed well I thought, but she totally blew me off. I can go see shows there for free however since I am an actor and I have auditioned for them. Pretty cool.

My last audition today was for a Children's Theatre in the burbs. My monologue was hastily memorized on the train on the way there... not good policy I know... Anyway, it was fine. I felt dumb, but that's just how Children's Theatre makes me feel. I hope I get a call back because it will really pay well. They said I was great, but sent me briskly on my way claiming they were far, far behind schedule. If I got anything (which I doubt I will due to the character list that I couldn't really fit into), it would TOTALLY conflict with my new work schedule, but I was hush hush about it.

I'm not coming to town for ARshakes or Tisch auditions. I just can't afford to work for 8 weeks for $1200, and I don't want to go to grad school right now. 

Check out ding tonight for cheap tickets to visit me.

I start my new job tomorrow; wish me luck. I hope it's a better fit than the Children's Museum is.

Material Things

I was flying high today.

61 degrees today. In January. Phil and I both had the day off for the first time since before Christmas. We had a great night last night. We went shopping at IKEA for the first time. We got some really wonderful things to add to our new home together.

happyhappyhappy.

But then when I got home I discovered that a package my parents had sent to me which I had lazily left at the foot of the stairs earlier was gone. Someone took it. But the problem is that in the package was something very dear to my heart. Completely worthless to any other person, but to me it was very precious. Ok... this is embarrassing. It was a stuffed animal. I left him in Arkansas when I visited. I always sleep with him still... My boob tickles, ok! Anyway, I left him at the bottom of the stairs and some fucking greedy bastard took a package thinking it might be worth something. I'll probably never see him again. I am very sad.

He's probably in a garbage can somewhere right now.

I know it's just an inanimate object. It's strange that I have such stong feelings over cotton stuffing and man-made fabric. I could walk into any Toys R Us and find the exact same raccoon doll today. Only it wouldn't be all flat and dingy like Toby.... his name was Toby. And I loved him.... And I know it's stupid, but still I'm full of grief. I don't think Phil really understood.

Then, I got that new job I've been waiting to hear from for over a month. So, thankfully I can quit my current job which makes me miserable. Now I'm an educator and program designer for the Notebart Nature Museum. Whew.

Then, I went down the stairs to search the dumpsters for Toby. Not only was he not there, but I twisted my ankle at the bottom of the stairs.

But right now, I feel ok. Except the sadness over Toby. My house is spic and span, Phil and I added some new beautiful additions to the apt, I got that job...
And people care about me. I got some very nice messages and comments on that Boo Hoo blog I wrote (that this one is very similar too...) Thank you to all my friends and family that make me feel fulfilled and supported and loved.

But I still miss Toby... Who steals mail??? I fucking hate thieves. In fact, I have another blog about thieves... Fucking thieves...

What a rollercoaster today was.

Boo Hoo

Darwin did not poop or pee in the apartment today. I think. 

That's good news. Both Phil and I had to work all day, and he didn't get to go out for 10 hours. 

I hate my job.

See, I not only find my job agonizingly boring and dragging (even when we have thousands of people visit like they have been for the holidays), but I also find my superiors annoyingly political, lazy, and power hungry. And disrespectful. I'm not going to get into the whys because that would bore you. Just know that it is a horror to work everyday. The people on my level are mostly cool, but we aren't allowed to "congregate" or talk to each other... It's like Big Brother.

I had an audition last night. I haven't had one in a couple months. I am getting new headshots on Wednesday, so I wanted to wait for those, but last night sounded like an interesting opportunity. Some short film, no pay, about lesbians and the show My So-Called Life. Anyway, I went and I... well... I think I sucked. Like really bad. Not that it really matters or anything that my performance was off for some gradstudent with wiccan eye makeup, but it was a very unsettling feeling of not knowing what I was doing. Like I was out of practice. I couldn't stop listening to myself, and I didn't sound like myself talking. I sounded like I was acting talking. You know what I mean? And I couldn't stop. I really tried to just focus on the other person talking, and react to what she was saying/doing. I couldn't. No solution here or anything. Just an uncomfortable ackowlegdement.

Did I mention I hate my job? Hopefully getting a new one next week...

I have good days here in Chicago. Sometimes. I have ok days a lot. And then I have some bad days. I love and hate public transportation. I love and hate all of the crazy people I meet. I had a great time at a party the other night with my friend Rhea. Free food and booze! It was pretty great.  I love the food/bar scene here. My apartment and my neighborhood are great. I love it when my family comes to visit, and my friends.  The weather here... you learn to deal. But I am scared scared scared that I'm not cut out for this thing I have been determined to do. And last night really made me wonder if I'm ready. If I'm not now, then what can I do about it? Go to grad school? I just don't want to right now.  Should I audition for AR Shakes? It probably won't be as great as last year with the pay dropping and all... Should I spoil that wonderful memory from before? 

Trying to act is hard. Just like everyone says. And some days I just don't want to try.